


Misadventures of the Uzumaki

by Dragnoria



Series: Adventures of the Next Generation [1]
Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Choking, Cock Slapping, Cock Slut, Cock Warming, Cock Worship, Collars, Come Eating, Come Inflation, Come Swallowing, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Face-Fucking, First Time Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, Large Cock, M/M, Praise Kink, Public Blow Jobs, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Scratching, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Small Penis, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22704697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragnoria/pseuds/Dragnoria
Summary: Boruto is reasonably talented, somewhat smart in certain aspects and relatively good-looking all things considered. Though at the moment, that's not Azazel's primary focus. No, instead Azazel is focused entirely on the fact that Boruto Uzumaki looks absolutely wonderful when he's down on his knees, eyes watering with a mouthful of cock.
Relationships: Uzumaki Boruto/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Adventures of the Next Generation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633057
Comments: 2
Kudos: 110





	1. Expertise

Boruto knows it’s uncommon, he knows that it’s unusual and that realistically he shouldn’t be doing this, he has no reason to be, it’s not his place. Yet, even still he does not stop, nor does he pause to reconsider, instead he simply continues, inhaling deeply through his nose as he dips his head further downward, blonde hair falling in front of his eyes, obscuring his view and perhaps that’s for the best. He tilts his head to the side slightly, tongue feeling heavy and tired in his mouth and so, he decides to focus on the task at hand, slowly bobbing his head and listening to the rather pleasant sounds rolling the lips of the boy above him. The taste is salty, and somewhat unpleasant but not to the point that he stops, just enough to notice. He supposes that the taste might be due to the intense exercise and activities that they had been doing throughout the door, or possibly just sweat, though he does not contemplate it for too long, he can’t afford to. He swallows, throat tightening around the throbbing organ in his mouth as he pushes himself lower towards the base, taking more into his mouth and subsequently pressing his nose against the neat bush of curly black pubes that rest there.

Things change from then on, or more aptly he begins to notice certain things, the most prominent of those things being the smell, perhaps it’s always been there or maybe it’s simply the result of him burying his nose in the base of pubes, he does not know, but he’s not complaining, in fact, it’s rather nice in a weird, odd sort of way. He swallows once more, feeling Azazel shake and softly grind his hips forward, digging his cock deeper into Boruto’s throat and burying the mass of dark pubic hairs against his nose, he inhales deeply allowing himself to relax as he slowly begins to bob his head. He feels hands slowly snake their way into his hair, softly combing through the soft locks, grip tightening momentarily as he pulls himself up, lips dragging along the heavy, pulsating cock in his mouth, then the grip of those hands loosen and he frowns, if only slightly. He curls and drags his tongue along the underside, carefully running it over each and every well-pronounced vein, lapping at the slit and swallowing the pre that leaked from it. Idly as he continued, he found himself thrusting forward, his hips moving, rutting against nothing, and so, he spread his legs, settling himself on the floor between his partners legs, he felt his boxers tighten, contracting against his body given the unusual position and the confined space, yet instead of repositioning himself another idea came to mind.

His hips jerked forward once more and he shivered, his cock grinding, pushing against the fabric of his boxers and he subsequently gags, his throat tightening, struggling to accommodate the thick cock in his mouth. Spit pools at the corners of his lips and dribbles down his chin, his chest burns or more accurately his lungs, so he pulls away, gasping for air, coughing and sputtering as he leans forward, catching his breath. Distracted as he is, he can still feel it, its light at first and barely noticeable, but it is indeed there. It pushes through his hair and against his cheek, precome, and saliva, staining his skin and dragging over his chin. He turns his head and is met with the warm, thick head of Azazel’s cock, pressed against his nose.

He weighs his options, contemplates resuming his previous actions, he  _ wants  _ to open his mouth, he  _ wants  _ to continue working, he feels it, the thought is intrusive at first, a pressing matter that he tries to ignore, but he can’t. It’s there, and he wants it, needs it.

So in his typical fashion, he decides to press his luck, to test himself and his partner, to see what he can get away with. He ducks his head, letting the precome-leaking tip graze over his nose and over his forehead, pushing into his hair as he moves lower, simply relishing in the feeling, the weight against his face. He flicks his gaze upwards, not to look at his partner, no, all he feels is embarrassment from the mere thought of that, instead, he lets the cock in front of him dominate his field of view, as he remains still beneath it. He exhales loudly, grinning and swiping his tongue over his lips. He opens his mouth, preparing to speak but he’s interrupted almost immediately, hands digging into his hair, gripping the blonde locks tight, Boruto groans, he whines as he’s pulled down, face pressed down as his mouth and pressed firmly against a heavy set of balls. He tries to glance upwards, but once again all he can see is cock, it’s resting across his forehead as he idly sucks and rolls his tongue across the large balls in front of him. He inhales, relishing in his position, the near intoxicating scent, the feeling of being beneath someone else. He hums softly, swallowing and softly sucking on the heavy balls in front of him, feeling the cock above him throb and leak precome into his hair. Admittedly, he’s a fan of his current situation, the feeling of being controlled and simply submitting beneath someone else. His hair is pulled once more and he’s dragged back, a string of saliva still connecting the corners of his mouth with the heavy set of balls beneath, he gasps for air, short and quick before he’s moved, the familiar taste of precome meeting with his tongue before he feels the thick head of Azazel’s cock being thrust into his mouth yet again. Boruto braces his hands against the other’s thighs, tilting his head momentarily as he swallows and swirls his tongue across the tip, for a brief moment he contemplates teasing once more but all thoughts of that quickly vanish as he pressed down to the base, nose buried against a set of curly pubes once more. He barely has time to adjust before he’s pulled back once more, dragged to the tip only to be shoved, rammed back down, he thrusts his own hips forward, boxers providing minimal friction as precome coats the inside of the fabric. He whimpers quietly as his face is thrust against, his jaw begins to ache and after a short, while he realizes that he’s not even moving, no, instead he’s simply allowing himself to be pulled, dragged and fuck, rough and hard. Spit is staining his shirt as it rolls down his chin and he’s willing and pliant, lazily rolling his tongue around, swallowing every now and again. 

He likes this as well, the feeling of being used in such a way, he doesn’t quite know why, nor does he question it as he chokes, gags and sputters, but he decides that this isn’t so bad, so obedient and willing as he is, he firmly plants his hands down on the floor between his legs. The hands in his hair tighten, gripping him tighter as his face is repeatedly thrust into, cock perpetually dragging in and out of his mouth, strings of spit dribbling down onto his clothes, as his eyes water, tears rolling down his cheeks. His face is red, he knows it and he needs to breathe, yet for some reason unbeknownst to him, he does not complain or make his situation known, instead, he remains still. He desperate and grateful as he’s allowed the opportunity to breathe, the saliva-coated cock being drawn from between his lips as he gasps, even muttering a soft “Thank you,” much to his own confusion. Once again though, he feels that very same cock press against his cheek as he’s held still, gripped by his hair, whilst his face is marked, precome and saliva smearing across his cheeks and lips, as Azazel drags the head of his cock across Boruto’s nose, then over his forehead, even leaving a string of precome across one of Boruto’s eyelashes. 

He can feel it, or maybe it’s intuition, the thing is throbbing, pulsating in front of him and he tilts his head upwards, leans into the hands in his hair, absentmindedly nuzzling into them, affectionate. Instinct tells him to open his mouth, and as such he does, he does not open his eyes, instead, he simply remains still, unmoving as the tip of his partners cock is slowly pushed into his mouth, but it stops early, barely entering his mouth, he whines, needy and loud, he tilts his head as he hears a soft chuckle above him. He’s about to question it, about to speak before his mouth is filled, and he’s quick to swallow, to wrap his lips around the head and push himself to the base as he feels the warmth of cum run down his throat. He struggles to accommodate, struggles to swallow it all as it fills his throat, and he can feel it, or at least he thinks he can, as it pools in his stomach, his hands twitch and he shakes, shivers even. Whatever initial worries he had are quickly washed away, as his body is flooded with cum, previously flat and smooth stomach, rounding out slightly and he groans loud and clear, only to be pressed down further, nose buried in the mass of public hair before him once more and he’s relaxed and docile once more. Slowly, the hands release him and he moves his body away, pulls himself back and slides his mouth off the cum-slick cock before him, though he does lap at it, rolls his tongue along the length to clean it before fully moving away. His breathing calms and reaches a hand down, to undo his pants and take care of his own straining erection, though as evidenced by the large sticky stain on the front of his pants, and wet feeling from inside his underwear it seems that won’t be necessary.

His cheeks burn with embarrassment, and he can’t raise his head to meet the gaze of his partner, nor can he look anywhere else, so instead he simply ducks his head, biting at his bottom lip. 

He wants to be mad, he  _ wants  _ to yell, to scream or do something, to feel anything other than what he is currently feeling because as of now all he can feel pride and the warmth in his stomach.


	2. Alleyway Antics

Boruto _might_ have a problem, he thinks, ponders as the back of his head aches.

It’s not a dull pain either, no, the back of his head is repeatedly being slammed against the hard stone wall of a nearby building, he doesn’t know what the name of the actual building is or if there are people inside it, what he does know however is that his knees ache, his throat is sore and everything he eats and drinks is probably going to taste like Azazel’s cock for at least another week or so. For some reason, though he finds himself not caring, mind fixating himself on the task at hand, his entire world essentially going dark as every cell in his body focuses on pleasuring his partner. The repeated impact had hurt at first and it almost made him stop a few times, but now the pleasure served as motivation, a constant reminder of what he was doing, of how he looked, of just how absolutely lewd and debasing this was. Him, Boruto Uzumaki the son of the Hokage on his knees in a rando alleyway sucking cock like some cheap whore. The thought was degrading-Hell the entire ordeal was degrading in of itself, yet for some unknown, terrible reason it only spurred him onwards.

The hands in his hair tightened their grip, and he focuses entirely on the comforting feeling of Azazel’s cock dragging over his tongue, the veins gliding over the smooth and wet organ, the salty taste that imprinted itself in his mouth. He was dizzy, maybe a bit concussed but the thought only made him give a low and strained moan around Azazel’s cock which in turn, earned him a harsh thrust in reply, one that made him gag.

Though Azazel didn’t stop there, no he kept going until he was buried into the poor boy’s mouth, balls pressed firmly against Boruto’s spit covered chin, nose pressed tightly against a mass of curly soft pubic hairs. Boruto gagged, drooled slightly and squirmed. He made the mistake of pushing slightly but that only earned him a harsh tug and an even harsher smack against the cheek, once again that only served to both spur him on and keep him in line. Obediently, he waited, mouth full, breathing halted and vision blurring, tears streamed from his eyes and ran down across his bright red cheeks, his eyes shifted upwards, gazing up at Azazel as though he was God, and once again was met with another thrust, or more aptly a shallow roll of the hips, the head of his cock dragging across parts of Boruto’s throat that he didn’t even know existed. He cautiously reached a hand upward, and gasps-chokes as he felt the distinct bulge of Azazel’s cock. He doesn't complain, the obvious tent in his pants showing that he wasn’t about to either, the wet patch of precoma, and the stickiness of actual come in his underwear further proved the point. While it was tempting, he doesn't dare touch himself; knowing from experience that if he did then Azazel would most likely only get angry and while he thought of that aroused him beyond belief, he didn’t dare test that here in a random alleyway.

“Guess you are naturally talented,” Azazel speaks, voice low and husky as he grips Boruto’s hair,“ A natural cocksucker, you barely even have a gag reflex which is a shame because, from the look of things, it seems like you get off on being choked.” He chuckles, licks his lips and Boruto _feels_ Azazel’s cock push deeper, blocking all airflow. “I should keep you on a leash, make sure I have my cocksleeve with me everywhere I go.” He groans, pushes deeper, embeds himself within Boruto’s mouth as the blonde’s brain begs for oxygen.

Azazel’s hips pull back, Boruto’s brain takes that opportunity to breathe, inhaling as much as possible.

Azazel slams back inward, buries himself down to the hilt as Boruto’s body shakes, convulses as the poor blonde releases yet another load of come into his already heavy and soaked underwear. Boruto’s eyes roll back into his head, his jaw aching as Azazel releases, come pouring directly down his throat, filling his stomach, bulging the once flat, soft area. Unfortunately, some come does spill from the corners of Boruto’s mouth despite his best efforts and though the boy does try to catch it with his hands, it stains his shirt and drips onto his pants. He swallows, keeps swallowing even once he knows he’s full, taking the liberty of showing his empty mouth to Azazel once the other male pulls out, which earns him a ruffle of the hair and a soft compliment of, “Good Boy,” once again, it does wonders for him and he quickly forgets about the fact that he's being treated like a dog.

Azazel tucks his cock back inside his pants, and Boruto’s takes note of the fact that while his partner is completely clean, he, however, is not. His blonde hair is disheveled, and his clothes are stained with come, both inside and out. Standing is odd, as come sticks to his thighs and he’s only partially aware of the glancing eyes from the ends of the alley.

“Get up, we’re not done yet.” Azazel adds as he turns, rolling his eyes and beginning to walk away.

Boruto forgets about the stickiness of his pants and trails after his partner like a lost puppy.


	3. Good Morning

Boruto, admittedly might have a problem. Not a big one, or at least not one that's dangerous or self-destructive, but a problem nonetheless. His sweater is currently hiked up to his chest, and he doesn't exactly remember where his pants went or if he ever had them on, but they're gone now, and he's suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he's essentially nude from the waist down. I mean, yes, he does have socks on, but that hardly counts as adequate clothing. He gazes around the room he's in, takes in the soft, fluffy blankets he's laying on, the clean silver sheets and abundance of pillows before he allows his gaze to wander. The sun is rising, just barely peeking over the edge of the horizon, and golden rays of light were beginning to seep into the room, bathing everything in an orange-yellow hue, it's pretty, to say the least. His movements are sluggish, still weighed down with the remnants of sleep as his muscles begin to work themselves into some semblance of looseness, his eyes flit over towards the right. Azazel is sprawled out across the bed as well, hidden beneath the blankets, his snow-white hair is disheveled and mused, sticking out in odd places but nonetheless still cute. Boruto clicks his tongue, stares at the gray sweater he's currently wearing before coming to the conclusion that it most likely is Azazel's, he rolls his shoulders before reaching over and throwing the covers aside, unmasking the boy who lays beside him-completely naked as well and Jesus Christ he takes in the sight before him. Azazel lies still with a calm, peaceful expression and as Boruto's gaze drifts further downward he's enticed furthermore, the sunlight bathes his upper body in an almost golden light, following along every dip of his abdomen, the muscles there almost visible but not too defined. His gaze, however, does not stop there, no, instead it drifts further downward, following along his naval before getting towards the prize he didn't even know his body desired. Azazel's cock is currently soft, laying across his thigh as his balls hand heavy and low between his legs, Boruto leans down slowly, getting a closer look, 

Under normal circumstances, Boruto wouldn't have the time to admire it, but here with his partner sleeping, he does and subsequently can fully appreciate the appendage. He had certainly not done him justice; the boy was endowed with a cock that while soft still made Boruto feel ashamed, perfectly thick and veiny and capped with a dark pink head that drooled shining pre-cum which leaked and subsequently pooled onto his thigh. Then again while he didn’t know the average length for someone’s cock at their age, he could state with reasonable confidence that Azazel was either wildly above it, or Boruto himself was greatly lacking. Then again, there also was the possibility that both were true, and as he felt his own cock hang between his legs, he found himself agreeing with the mentality that he may be a bit smaller than average whilst still maintaining the idea that Azazel's was wildly above it. Suddenly, at that same moment, Boruto also came to realize that he could smell it, through the haze of sweat and groggy tiredness. It was a deep, musky scent, yet surprisingly not bad, almost pleasant in an odd sense, it was strong, heavy, intoxicating, and heady, probably the sort of scent that Boruto shouldn’t want to be smeared all over his own face.

He grasps Azazel's cock in his one hand, long, and unreasonably thick. Even when he’s soft, Boruto's fingers just barely touch as he wraps his hand around the base, a full-body shiver making is way through him as he imagines what's to come.

Quickly, Boruto begins to jerk Azazel's cock, and the sight of him growing to full mass is devastatingly hot and makes Boruto's stomach twist with longing and desire. Azazel is now unconsciously thrusting into his hand, hips rocking in a slow and steady motion as Boruto strokes him, precome oozing over his hand. The weight feels heavy on his palm and the steady sight of the glistening cockhead becomes almost hypnotizing as he dips his head down, pressing his tongue against the underside of Azazel's cock, tasting a heady mix salty bitterness and precome. He drags his tongue upwards, over the veins feeling each minute throb and twitch as his mind fixates itself onto the organ before him, slowly he lowers a hand down towards the heavy balls between his partners thighs, hefting their weight in his hands and suddenly finding himself very, very interested in the sheer amount of come they held.

Boruto's arousal washed over him in a forceful violent wave, as he feels the other's hand press into his hair, pushing the head of his cock against Boruto's spit glistening lips, as they part involuntarily, heavy and radiating warmth on his tongue. The pulsating pleasure in his gut and groin was unreal, all of which stemming just from the sheer concept that he had the others cock in his mouth, that he had been reduced to a state so humiliating, and degrading. He could hardly think around vivid images of his mouth being fucked, about Azazel using him as a toy for his own pleasure, about moaning and leaking pre-cum all over the sheets as hot, sticky strings of semen trickled down his throat and decorated his hair.

Azazel groaned loudly, his voice was tired and he still seemed groggy, though that seemingly didn't deter him in the slightest.

At this point, Boruto couldn’t even call it simple need, no, it was blatant greed and hungry desire, desperation that only increases as time goes on, kitten licks that soon became messier as he slid a little further down, careful to keep his teeth from touching directly. He shuddered and whimpered, forcing his jaw as far open as it would go so that he could take more.

Azazel's hand returned to Boruto’s hair, gently stroking through the blinde curls as he guided him forward and back in slow, saliva soaked drags. “Good boy,” Azazel praised him, his voice calm cool and collected.

Boruto whines at the praise, pride blooming in his chest, warmth spreading throughout his body as he shifted his knees, desperate to reach down and stroke himself. He propped himself up further with his non-dominant arm, wriggling his weight off his elbow as to reach back and wrap his hand around his throbbing length. Almost immediately another inch and a half slid into his mouth, pressing past his teeth and teasing the opening of his throat. He gagged, coughing as his throat strained, sloppy, wet noises emanating from his mouth, sending surges of humiliation through him. He glanced up at Azazel with teary eyes, only to realize the older boy’s former smile had shifted, his lips drawn into a tight straight line.

Boruto understood almost immediately, pulling his hand away from his cock and returning them to the bed, his cock steadily leaking precome onto his wrist. His legs shake as he continues to bob his head, groaning around the thick length in his mouth, the sheer idea and image of himself in this position only furthered his own pleasure, and soon, sooner than expected, his cock twitches and he gagged, choked on Azazel’s cock his throat bulging obscenely. Boruto, whimpers, whines as his cock spurts and dribbles come onto the blankets, and the pleasure itself is mind-numbing.

Under normal circumstances, he might’ve complained about the sticky mess on his hands but the euphoria was mind-numbing, so much so that he didn’t even notice the perpetual pulsating of Azazel’s cock until come began spilling from his cheeks, dripping down his chin and staining his previously clean sweater-or Azazel’s sweater. His dignity, pride, and self-restraint shattered in that single instant as just the sheer knowledge, the concept that  _ he  _ had been the reason his partner came, that  _ he  _ was the reason as to why come was currently spilled across his upper body was nearly enough to send Boruto into a second orgasm then and there. He swallowed, tried to swallow as best he could and found that he didn’t mind the mess on his clothes, nor did he necessarily mind when the hand in his hair tightened and he felt Azazel grind his come-slicked cock against Boruto’s cheek as he panted, in fact, he even closed his eyes and hummed happily at the feeling, nuzzling against the throbbing organ.

“Enjoy your meal?” Azazel hums, quirking an eyebrow upwards as Boruto hums blissfully, tilting his head and pressing a kiss against his partner’s cock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ideas and Suggestions are appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	4. Decisions

Boruto is known for making relatively bad decisions, not  **terrible** ones, but bad decisions in comparison to those that his friends make. He doesn’t know how he got himself into this situation-actually that’s a lie, he knows  _ exactly  _ how he got himself into this situation, the words still ring loud and clear in the back of his head. He had been teasing Azazel all day, in fact, he had been doing it almost all week, so really he should’ve expected something like this, but still, even he feels as though this is a bit much.

The  _ moment  _ they had left class, Boruto found himself pressed firmly against the nearest wall, Azazel’s chest firmly against his back, he was already hard, and the feeling became even worse when he was pressed against the wall. The friction, tightness in his pants, and feeling of another body pressed against his own only made the sensation worse. Azazel had leaned in close, lips hovering near Boruto’s ear and breath hot, ghosting over the shell his ear as he whispers, "We’re going to the bathroom and either you’re going to suck me off, or I’m going to fuck you dry."

So, here Boruto was, shivering at the distant memory as he kneels between the other's legs. His swallows audibly as he leans forward, head dipping downwards as he flicks his gaze upwards to meet the glare of his violet-eyed partner. He doesn't get any sympathy, in fact, Azazel simply grasps the base of his shaft, and raises it upwards, Boruto can see the veins running along the underside of his shaft, he watches it throb and twitch, the precome that drools from the tip and coats the head in the sticky, salty substance- he holds it high above Boruto's head. A moment of silence passes before he lets go, and for some reason unbeknownst to him, Boruto doesn't even bother moving, simply closes his eyes and allows the thick shaft to land heavy and hard atop his forehead, precome leaking into his blonde locks. He doesn't move, but he  _ does _ open his eyes, and instead of gazing at Azazel, he finds himself glaring at the underside of his cock instead. There's a hand in his hair, gripping the locks tight and firm in his grasp as he pulls Boruto forward, dragging his cock firmly across his face, over the bridge of his nose and along his forehead, he smears precome onto him. The heady scent of his cock hangs heavy in the air and Boruto allows it to invade his senses, focusing solely on the task at hand, on the person before him as he feels the heavy, meaty stack against his cheek as Azazel brings his cock down upon him once more. He pulls his head back, feels the subtle drag across his face as he tilts his head, and opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out. He says not a word, doesn't turn his attention towards his partner and instead does as he supposed to, keeps his eyes firmly locked into the throbbing tip of the dick before him.

Without protest, Azazel firmly buries himself that mouth as the salty bitterness of precome dominates Boruto's taste buds.

There's a part of Azazel, a small, almost insignificant part of him that can't believe his eyes as he glares down at the boy beneath him. The complete submission of his partner, the way he so willingly gives himself unto Azazel, body bared and open for him to do as he pleases. He relishes the image he makes, savors the feeling of the boy's tongue dancing along the underside of his shaft. The boy's gaze is all-consuming, his worship is slow and deliberate, every lick another prayer, every curl of his tongue intentional and slow. He's giving all of his being unto Azazel, allowing himself to be made useful. It takes great effort on Azazel’s part to not fully sheathe himself into the other boy's mouth, but he manages, albeit barely.

"God damn," Azazel groans, throwing his head back, “Good boy,” He encourages, spreading the blonde's lips even wider as he pushes his hips forward, dragging his shaft across the boy's tongue as he forces himself in deeper, earning a strained gag from the younger boy.

Boruto’s eyes watered as he struggled to keep himself from gagging as Azazel slid further into his throat, dragging along the roof of his mouth and pressing hard against the back of his throat. The image Boruto makes, sitting there, on his knees with his legs spread, the tent visible and twitching between his legs as he chokes on his shaft, almost makes Azazel cum right then and there. He takes a moment to debate how much he’d enjoy watching Boruto gag and choke around him, struggling to swallow it all. 

But with great resolve, Azazel manages to keep himself centered and swiftly pulls himself from the boy's mouth, strings of saliva hanging between them, still connecting the blonde's lips to his shaft. He reaches a hand down, caressing the blondes cheek which earns him a smile, soft and serene, before he nods his head, takes the gesture of affection for the short-lived break that it was before he returns to his work.

It's impressive, Azazel thinks, the way Boruto works quickly, head dipping down, as he takes-inch-after-inch of him with practiced ease. As Azazel mutters and groans quietly, hands fisting and fingers curling in Boruto’s hair, pulling and tugging on it as he grinds himself forward. His breath hitches every time Boruto hollows his cheeks, swallowing around him as he gives a particularly hard suction, wringing out a loud groan from Azazel’s lips.

Predictably enough, Boruto’s silence doesn’t last long, as muffled words attempt to make their way from between his lips, but given his preoccupation, the words are little more than muffled noises. Although he’s enjoying everything that’s happening, his curiosity is getting the better of him, so he taps a finger against the blonde's cheeks, “I can’t hear y—“

Boruto pulls his head back, “I said,” Azazel’s attention quickly goes from listening to his voice to staring at the spit stringing from the underside of his shaft to Boruto’s lower lip. The stare he gets from the blondes blue eyes, makes him twitch, shaft throbbing mere centimeters from the boy's face, as a wide grin stretches across his pink lips, “You’re too fucking big for your own good.”

Azazel blinks, once, twice then a third time before he cocks his head to the side, pursing his before nodding, “Thanks, I guess.”

Boruto clicks his tongue, a slightly frustrated or perhaps annoyed twitch of his brows flashes across his face before he settles down once more, lips latching onto the pre-come oozing head of his shaft as he gives another, particularly hard suck against him.

Boruto gives another wide smile, pearly white teeth bared as he dips his head down once more, takes Azazel’s cock into his mouth yet again, not bothering to waste any time between the first swirl of his tongue and the hard swallow when he’s taking him down his throat with more ease than the first. 

For a brief moment, Azazel regrets not having the sensibility to do this in the bathroom stall as opposed to doing this out in the open, where anyone of their classmates could come wandering in and catch them in this position. Boruto braces his hands against him, fingers digging into his hip bones as he keeps him pressed firmly against the wall.

Blue eyes flick upwards to stare into Azazel’s own violet ones, and in the brief moment of shared though, Azazel gives a short nod, to which Boruto’s head bobs up and down faster, only stopping to occasionally take a moment to admire Azazel’s cock and the heavyweight of it in his hand. He always follows up with him popping Azazel back into his mouth, letting his cock slip down his throat and swallowing to tighten around it.

Boruto doesn’t relent, instead, he retreats until only the tip of Azazel’s cock sits on the flat of his tongue, tilting his head back and letting his hand pick up where his mouth has left off. The wet squelch of his palm is the final push that he needs, and Azazel tips his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, and comes  _ hard _ . A loud groan slips free from his lips as his body tenses, toes curling inside his shoes. The acoustics in the bathroom are particularly unforgiving, the sound reverberating off the walls astonishingly clear, and Azazel is more than sure that anyone outside can hear him.

Azazel’s chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to scrape together what he had lost of his composure. He drags his hands across his face, white hair clinging to his forehead and neck as he pants, gaze shifting downward to stare at the sticky mess that is Boruto. His lips are glistening, covered in a sheen of spit and saliva, not unlike his chin or even the top of his shirt, which clung to his chest, outlining his collarbones. His pants are a mess-though that was due to another reason, the tent that was previously visible was now slowly fading, a hot, sticky, wet patch on the front of his clothing that Azazel can only assume is from Boruto's own release.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't expect to write a new chapter, but here I am.  
> Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to mention any ideas you have, either in the comments or if you'd like- you can find me on discord as well at: Azazel#6306


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